Chapter XXVII
1928
The baby was born a few weeks premature, at seven in the morning, on a cold day in January. It snowed the day before and the streets froze during the night.
-Fosco, I don’t feel well, I think that the baby is about to come.-
Clara shook gently Fosco’s arm. He was asleep beside her. The night before he read and wrote till late and he had fallen asleep a short while before.
Lately he was worried about Clara and he was trying to leave her alone for as little as possible. He would leave the house and was obsessed with the thought that something might happen to her and could not wait to be back home. He would secretly watch her and he could see her body changing day after day. The idea that inside her a tiny and harmless creature was growing, a real baby, their baby, fr
